


Two, Three, Two.

by SexyLibrarian



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, I don't know what I'm doing, also a baby thing i guess, angst angst angst, maybe fluff?, probably not fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SexyLibrarian/pseuds/SexyLibrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and Molly's daughter suffered a lung defect that had gone unnoticed at birth. Neither of the parents are coping well, but their ineffective methods are vastly different. Potentially ongoing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two, Three, Two.

Sherlock seemed to be arguably less affected by the sudden death of his daughter not two months after her birth than his wife. He had remained stoic through the entire ordeal, stone-faced through the funeral that reduced everyone else in attendance to tears. Molly seemingly hadn’t moved on to the anger part of the grieving process, but when she did, there was sure to be shouts at how unfeeling he was. He knew that, and something in his mind had been telling him to show some emotion over the matter but he simply couldn’t. He felt empty, but not sad. Just empty, or lost. Perhaps it was a type of sad that he’d not felt yet. He set the groceries down on the table but didn’t bother putting them away.

 He found Molly where he usually did. Sometimes she would stand by the window with the lace curtains pushed to the side, taking in the view that a five-year-old Naomi might have liked to see, might have liked to play princess and pretend that London was her kingdom; sometimes it was at the tall dresser filled with dresses and jumpers that said things like “Mummy loves me” or “Daddy’s little girl”, hair bows and head bands with butterflies and hearts on racks on the top; at other times, like now, she would simply be too filled with grief to stand and would merely kneel by the empty crib and hold the tiny toy lamb that Mummy Holmes had gifted them, the toy that Naomi had already attached herself to. Sherlock knelt next to her and placed his hands on her shoulders

Molly turned her head to look at him, and he was troubled by the red in her eyes and the raw pink of her cheeks. She looked like she had come in from a day in the cold.  Sherlock lifted the  lamb from her hands and she put up on resistance; he set it in the corner of the crib and then turned to her. With his hands under her elbows, he helped her to stand and walked with her to the living room, sat her on the couch, and went to put the groceries away. When he came back some ten minutes later with two mugs of tea, she hadn’t moved at all.

“I don’t understand it,” she whispered, holding her mug with both hands to her chest.

“Understand what? The doctors explained her lung defect perfectly to us—“

“Not that,” she interrupted. “I don’t understand  _you._ You’re like a shell. You haven’t cried or smiled or said anything of meaning in a week.”

Sherlock was silent for a few moments. “I don’t know how to react.”

“Doesn’t it make you sad?”

“I don’t know.”

Molly frowned and moved to sit beside him. “No one would think less of you if you were sad.” She glanced up at him to see if his face offered any expression, but it was a stony as ever. “Much less me. I want you to heal.”

“You’re the one who needs healing. Half of the time, you’re incapacitated.”

“Showing my sadness has allowed me to begin healing. You haven’t even reached that stage.”

“I have no sadness to show.” A slightly horrified expression from Molly made him rush to explain. “I don’t feel anything. I’m not sad or angry or happy. There isn’t anything for me to show because I don’t feel anything. Empty. I’m empty.”

Molly put a hand on his arm and he shrugged it away.

“We need to clean out the nursery. “

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this first chapter during Orphan Black because I watch Doctor Who and then I watch The Nerdist. So I'm sorry if it's a bit scattered and short, I wrote it in under an hour after Doctor Who. I'm legitimately not sure if I'll continue, but odds are that I will. Thank you for reading.


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